sick again of the blood that flows clean up the mess in the bathroom stains on the sink veins are made to be broken hearts belong in their place on the inside hallucinations come far too easily but the pain still washes over me i want to wash it all away but the water from my tap is filled with rust and the blood of my wrist is cleaner than the snot-soaked rags i have i m feeling sicker than ever before soap and water just makes it sting edges raised in protest indignance at invasion the skin talks of revolution against the ruling of the brain if i could wash away the mess with water and still not drown if i could cauterise the wound with fire and still not burn it s no distraction to compromise but compromise doesn t come in a spray bottle which is all i have chemical cleansing and a torn white shirt to wipe off the involuntary glyphs on the walls fingerprints taken from touching my arms now it s time to eliminate all of the evidence wipe it away and rinse with more blood but don t touch or i ll start again